


Fucking Finally

by eadunne2



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bottom Steve Rogers, Domestic, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Family, Fluff, Fluff and Light Angst, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Fuckbuddies, Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Pining, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Skinny Steve, Skinny Steve Rogers, Smut, Switching, Top Bucky Barnes, Top Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-11 02:00:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5609596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eadunne2/pseuds/eadunne2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The whole friends with benefits thing is working out great for Steve and Bucky. And by great of course we mean, it's a total shitshow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Oh shit

**Author's Note:**

> Something lighter. Some sex, some fluff, some happy ending...  
> Happy 2016.

“Would you get the fuck over here?”

“Shit, Stevie, hold on. Christ, if I’da known the mouth you had on you when I picked you up -”

“Fuck off, I picked _you_ up.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. The truth is probably somewhere in the middle but the undisputed facts are that when they met at that party the chemistry had been immediate. Bucky assumes. He’d felt like Steve had been mentally undressing him, but that could’ve been wishful thinking on his part. Steve had looked fucking edible in a rust colored sweater, v-neck exposing sharp collarbones, and his skin-tight jeans left no question as to the perfect ass on the kid. The worst, though (and by worst of course he means best) are the blue eyes that fill with sweet earnestness just as easily as flash with anger...Bucky was a goner from the moment he laid eyes on him.

So it’s no wonder he needs a minute, here in Steve’s room, because he’s a heartbeat away from coming just looking at the slender man laid out on the navy bedspread, arching his back up off the mattress and running his hands down his chest to his hips. His hair is already beautifully mussed in a way that Bucky could never pull off, and the desire to get his fingers in it overpowers his need for control, so he stalks over to the bed.

“So pretty when you show off like that, Stevie,” he murmurs, and sinks his fingers into the soft locks and pulls, exposing the pale column of his neck. “So fuckin’ pretty.” He bends over and latches on just below Steve’s ear, sucking a mark into the creamy skin. Claiming.

Steve moans in that surprisingly deep voice of his and it goes straight to Bucky’s dick. Jerking forward, he squeezes at the base to stave off the orgasm that’s hovering in his spine, tries to calm himself down. 

Blinking up at him slow and heavy, Steve says, “C’mere,” and tugs him down and over. He’s all velvet skin over sinew-draped skeleton and Bucky’s torn between wanting to bite and lick at every delicate span of skin and folding him in half and fucking him ‘til he screams.

He wriggles down a little to prop himself up on his elbows but Steve catches him under the chin and pulls him in for a kiss, sweet and slow. Of course Bucky obeys. He licks into Steve’s mouth then pulls back to slide his own spit-slick lips over Steve’s, who whimpers.

“I got you, doll. I’ll take care of you.”

Steve watches with hooded eyes as Bucky runs his tongue over Steve’s nipples, clavicle, ribs… He loves that look, loves knowing that he makes Steve feel good. It’s more than Bucky deserves.

When Steve is good and wound up, Bucky sits up to roll that slender body onto his stomach then tugs at Steve’s hips, pulling him up to hands and knees. He knows Steve’s impatient, can feel him trembling, but it's been a week since he’s seen the kid and he‘s going to take his time. 

He brushes flat palms up Steve’s back, hoping the movement covers the way his own hands are shaking, then back down to his ass. 

“Come on, Buck,” Steve pants and Bucky grins before obeying (always obeying, he'd never say no to this beautiful man), leaning down, pulling the two handfuls of flesh apart and swiping his tongue over the exposed, fluttering hole.

Steve makes a fucking unholy sound in the back of his throat and pushes back. He's silk, he's cream, he's too goddamn perfect, and Buck loosens him up, slow and gentle until Steve is just whimpering repeatedly, pleading, and only then does Buck slip a slicked up finger inside him. 

“Fuck,” Steve gasps. “Yeah. More, please Buck, please.” 

“So polite when I’m fucking you,” Bucky teases and Steve glares at him over one delicately-boned shoulder. 

“Ain’t fuckin’ me yet,” he gripes. It makes Bucky laugh, head thrown back and shoulders heaving and he doesn’t see the way Steve’s eyes and the corners of his mouth soften at the sight. 

“Alright, alright,” Bucky says as he calms down, and eases another finger in. 

“Jeez, don’t make it sound like such a hardship. 

They may be fuckbuddies and not boyfriends but Bucky’s pretty fluent in Steve, Steve who puts up a fantastic front of “I don’t give a fuck”, but in reality, cares too much about everyone and everything. 

Bucky curls over Steve’s back and whispers, “Not a hardship,” into the skin at the back of his neck.

“Then what?” Steve grumps into the pillow. 

Bucky’s not much for emotional displays. He’s pretty casual in his day-to-day, jokes around a lot, but something about Steve makes him tender and sweet and he can’t help himself as he says, “Incredible. Overwhelming. So fuckin’ sexy.” 

Steve snorts into the fabric, and Bucky noses behind his ear. “‘M serious, Stevie. Ain’t never seen anybody as beautiful as you.” 

“Jesus,” Steve mutters, embarrassed, but Bucky can see the flush on the back of his neck, and eases another finger in. Steve arches up off the bed and Bucky catches him, a hand at his sternum, pulling up to kiss him deeply over his shoulder. He can’t help the fervor. Steve’s so fuckin’ gorgeous. 

Bucky lets him go only to fuck him open with his fingers and his tongue, all the while thinking he’s in control of himself, but then Steve says, “Please, Buck,” again, and this time it’s different. His voice is so desperate, almost afraid. “Need to feel you. _Please_.

Bucky doesn’t understand how he got this lucky. The kid is gorgeous, long, lean lines where Bucky is clunky muscle. He’s just a fuckin’ shipyard worker, broke as a joke and grateful for the few things he has. Steve’s brilliant, a graphic designer for a major ad firm. His apartment is beautiful, only subtle hints to the amount of money he has, and that means nothing to Bucky other than to remind him how fucking out of his league Steve is.

But here he is, writhing beneath Bucky, begging to be fucked and Bucky’s starting to lose his mind a little. “Yeah, doll. I got you. Oh _fuck_ ,” he pants as he begins to press in. Steve’s so fucking tight, even still, but it doesn’t seem like he’s in any pain.

“Yeah, yeah, more, come _on_ Buck.” 

“Easy baby. You gotta go easy on me, ok? You’re too fucking perfect, don’t want this to be over in five minutes.”

Steve looks back over his shoulder again, this time looking blissed out but also sly. “Easy? You don’t want that. Me neither.” Bucky quirks a brow, but Steve keeps talking, that shit eating grin dancing around his mouth. “You wanna fuck me, hard and deep. Wanna feel me clench around you." 

Bucky’s hips jerk forward of their own accord and Steve lets his eyes flutter closed for a moment, moaning, before continuing. “Come on, Buck. Fuck me. Make me feel you.” Bucky’s fully sheathed now and breathing deep in a frantic effort for control, just as much turned on by Steve’s words as his body, and starts rolling his hips shallowly. “Wanna know I’m yours.” Wait, what? “Show me I’m yours, Buck,” he whimpers, and Bucky loses it. 

His hands snap out, grabbing Steve by his slender hips and pulling him back as he drives into him. The blonde falls forward onto his elbows then collapses all the way into the bed, muffling his “Oh fuck yes.” 

The lean length of him spread out, legs as far apart as he can get them to accommodate Bucky in the best way possible, is breathtaking and Bucky feels his rhythm falter for just a moment. Steve rolls his body, fucking back onto Buck’s cock and the taller man shouts.

“You like that, Buck?” Steve gasps, and does it again.

“Yeah, baby, you’re perfect, so fucking good.” He speeds up, and he can tell now he’s hitting Steve’s prostate with every thrust, watching that beautiful body clench up each time.

“Please don’t stop,” Steve whispers, and Bucky wouldn’t dream of it. They fuck each other into increasingly removed oblivion for longer than Bucky thought they’d last, but when Steve starts trembling he hauls the smaller man up, one arm holding him tightly to Bucky’s chest and one stroking his cock in slick pulls, matching his rhythm. It’s good, so good, too good, and then Steve freezes up against Bucky lets go of that last thread of control, coming so hard that Steve has to lean back to tilt him onto his heels or he’d have crushed the kid.

“Fuck,” he pants. “Sorry."

“Don’t apologize,” Steve grins, flopping down next to him. “That was incredible.”

“No fucking kidding.”

They don’t really cuddle, not part of the standard fuckbuddy agreement, but that’s been getting exponentially harder for Bucky as the months have passed, so he fudges it where he can, like now, casually trailing his fingers up and down Steve’s chest. When he catches a glimpse of the time he mutters absently, “My train’s not for another hour.” Maybe he’ll go to the coffee shop down the street. They have day-old muffins for fifty cents. He could go for that.

“Why don’t you stay?” Steve mumbles. “I’ll make you some dinner.”

Bucky hopes the fondness isn’t too pronounced as he glances at Steve. “You don’t have to do that for me, Stevie."

“The fuck else are you gonna eat? You can’t cook for shit.”

“Ha!” Bucky barks, amused. “Fuck you too. Fine. Yeah.” He pauses. “That’d be real nice.”


	2. Hell yes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fluffity fluff

“Thanks Bec, I’ll keep that in mind,” Bucky murmurs into the phone and exhales a curl of smoke through pursed lips into the evening air.

“You comin’ to Ellie’s birthday?” 

“Yeah, ‘course.” The kids are usually great but he’s not super excited about the adults at the party. Everyone has a million questions, and Bucky’s got answers but they’re his own damn business. 

“Great.” There’s a crash in the background and then a yelp. 

“Uncle Bug!”

“El wants to talk to you,” Becca laughs.

“I’m surprised it took her this long, honestly.” 

There’s some shuffling on the other line at the same time as Steve comes out, two bottles tucked between his fingers. He offers one to Bucky then leans against the railing with him, staring out at the city below.

“Uncle Bug!” 

“Ellie, you’re an old lady!”

“No! You are!”

Bucky laughs. “Can’t argue that. What do you want for your birthday?”

“You comin’a my birfday?” 

“No,” Bucky teases. “Just curious.” He grins at Steve who returns it crookedly.

“Wanna truck and some dollies.”

“What kind of truck and what kind of dollies?”

He finishes the conversation with El around the time he and Steve finish their beers. Maybe it’s the alcohol in his system making him particularly stupid, but Bucky says, “Hey, you wanna come with me to my niece’s birthday party?”

Steve’s not looking at him, but his profile gives away that smile that crinkles his eyes. “Is that who you were talking to?”

“Yeah. It’ll be a couple of days, so I understand if you don’t want to, but it’d be nice to know I had someone on my side.” He’s mostly joking.

“Your side?”

“Yeah, Ellie’s friends’ moms are all terrifying. There’re two groups, harassing me and hitting on me, and they’re both awful.” Steve frowns. “It’s ok if you don’t want to man, I just thought I’d -”

“I’d like to,” he interrupts. “When is it?”

“This weekend. I usually take the train up, but if you wanted to drive…” Bucky hadn’t considered this part, and is a little embarrassed. He doesn’t have a car, doesn’t really need one, but Steve’s used to a different standard of living…

“I’ll drive us, it’s no trouble,” Steve says amiably. “Now come have dinner.”

“You made dinner?”

“Some of us actually try to eat regularly you know,” Steve sasses as they mozy back into the apartment, shutting the glass double doors behind them.

“Hey, I try. Just doesn’t always work out,” Bucky laughs. It’s actually fine, better than it used to be. A big lunch with the guys at work, something small for dinner...it gets the job done, but Steve’s not laughing along. 

As they pass into the kitchen he mutters, “The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

Bucky shakes his head. “Forget I said anything.” The kitchen smells amazing, like herbs and garlic and he doesn’t want to talk about the absence of food when there’s such delicious food in front of them. “How the fuck did you put all this together so fast?” 

Steve loosens a little at that. “You were out there for damn near half an hour, and everything was mostly done before you got here.”

“I thought you were working!” 

“I was. On dinner. Come on.”

There’s chicken and potatoes and some sort of garlicky vegetable thing and Bucky tries not to stuff himself into a coma, but it’s a difficult test of willpower. 

“This is fucking amazing, Steve. Thank you.” 

In his oversized sweater and knit hat he looks absolutely too sweet and beautiful blushing at the praise. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you liked it. You wanna crash on the couch for a bit? Digest?”

Bucky doesn’t quite stifle a burp in time and they both chuckle. “Yes please.” He helps Steve clear the table and in no time he finds himself on Steve’s ridiculously comfortable couch.

“Requests?” Steve asks, crouched over the drawer of DVDs. 

“Uh, get that fantastic ass over here?”

Steve tisks, but Bucky can see the smile, too. “Yeah yeah, jerk.” They end up watching Top Shot and getting far too invested in the competition. Bucky doesn’t even notice until two episodes in that he’s pressed into Steve’s side, and by the third, the smaller man has his arm around Bucky’s shoulders. He falls asleep somewhere in the fourth. 

He wakes up on the couch. To his work alarm.

“What the - shit!” he grunts. 

“S’ wrong?” Steve yawns, rubbing at his eyes and Bucky is struck dumb. He looks so fucking sexy in his rumpled sweater and messy hair that Bucky turns his alarm off and kisses Steve soundly.

Pleased, he murmurs, “What was that for?”

 _You’re beautiful. You’re perfect. I lo-_ “Sorry for falling asleep.”

Steve shakes his head. “No worries. I needed it too.” 

They’re fuckbuddies. Who didn’t fuck. Who ate dinner and fell asleep on the couch.

To be fair, Bucky calls in late to work for the first time in over a year so he can blow Steve in the shower, slow and sloppy and probably a touch too reverently, but Steve comes with a sigh and tugs Bucky to his feet to lick the taste of himself off Buck’s tongue. 

Steve barely has to touch him. Fingers threaded firmly in Bucky’s hair, mouth at his ear, Steve whispers, “Come for me, baby,” as he slides a slick hand over Bucky’s cock and Buck obeys, whimpering into his mouth.

\--

“Sorry I’m late,” Bucky mutters, taking the steps two at a time up to the stoop where Steve is perched.

“No problem,” Steve smiles, flipping his sketchbook shut. “‘S your party.”

They load the car with Steve’s duffle and Bucky’s backpack and hit the road to upstate New York. 

“You grow up there?” Steve asks once they clear the city.

Bucky shakes his head. “Nah. Brooklyn. Becca moved up there with El just after she was born. Fresh start ‘n’ shit.”

“Is Ellie’s dad in the picture?”

“No.” He doesn’t elaborate. That’s a story for another day. Steve doesn’t push. 

They fall into silence, but it’s easy and amiable. Bucky watches Steve’s delicate wrists bend as he drives, his long slender fingers tapping absently on the steering wheel. His hair catches the sun, sending shards of gold dancing through it, and Bucky reaches out unconsciously, brushing his fingertips along Steve’s temples and back, letting his nails scritch absently at the nape of his neck.

With a sigh and a smile Steve settles in deeper, relaxes his shoulders and murmurs, “Mm. Feels nice.”

“Good.” He continues until his arm starts to go numb. Steve catches his hand as it falls and twines their fingers together, and Bucky’s fairly certain he’s having a heart attack, but that’s not important, not when Steve’s thumb is stroking softly over Bucky’s busted knuckles. He must notice the scabs and scars thickening the skin belying years of hard labor, but he doesn’t say anything. 

Bucky passes out, and when he wakes up, they’re driving through the outskirts of town. He’s still holding Steve’s hand. Blushing, he withdraws it to stretch.

“How’d you sleep?” Steve murmurs. 

“Fine, sorry I crashed on ya.” His neck cracks and he turns to get the other side. “I keep doing that.” 

Steve laughs. “You tryna tell me I’m boring, Barnes?”

“No! Not at all! Just...comforting.” It’s out of his mouth before he’s thought of the potential consequences, and he abruptly changes the subject. “Let’s head to Becca’s first. We can check into the hotel after dinner.” 

By the time they roll up to Becca’s little house he and Steve have settled into a comfortable volley of shit-giving, and Bucky’s laughing so hard when he gets out of the car that he almost doesn’t see the the little blur that is his niece fly out the front door. She leaps at him, up through the air, and Bucky’s arms shoot out, catching her firmly. 

“Uncle Bug!”

“Ellie girl!” He squeezes her tightly. “Happy Birthday, darlin’.”

“Thanks. Who that?” She’s pointing rudely, but Steve’s chuckling.

“That is my friend Steve. He heard about how great you are, wanted to celebrate your birthday with you.”

“Hi Ellie. Nice to meet you.”

She considers him from her perch on Bucky’s hip for a moment before leaning out and making grabby hands at him. Steve immediately steps forward and takes her into his arms. She reaches out and places a small, chubby hand on either side of his face, assessing. 

“You Uncle Bug friend?”

“I am.”

“He my favorite uncle.”

“I’m your only uncle,” Bucky snorts, vaguely nervous, but both Ellie and Steve ignore him.

“I’m sure he is.”

“He funny.”

“He is.”

“He nice.”

“He is.”

“He take care of Mama when she sad.”

“I’m not surprised,” Steve murmurs softly.

“You take care of him?” she asks seriously, and Steve shoots Bucky an unreadable look before returning his attention to Ellie.

“Yeah.”

“How come?”

“What?”

“How come? Uncle Bug love Mama ‘cause she his sister. Why you love Uncle Bug?”

“Ellie-” Bucky starts, trying to insert his body into the conversation, but again he’s ignored.

“Well,” Steve says, considering carefully. “He makes me laugh, and he’s a really hard worker. He’s kind, and brave, and smart, and he takes care of me too.”

The little girl considers the response long and hard before finally saying, “Good.” Smacking a kiss onto Steve’s forehead she declares, “I like you.”

“I like you too Ellie.”

“You carry me in?”

Steve nods and smiles softly at Bucky, who volunteers to get the bags so he can wipe away the wetness in his eyes unseen.

“Hello, boys!” Becca calls from the front porch, and they all trudge inside. Bucky drops their crap on the couch and wraps his arms around his sister.

“Hey, Bec.”

“Hey old man.” He hugs her until she shoves him off, and he digs into his coat to hand her an envelope, unmarked and plain, same as every year.

“Bucky-” she protests, same as every year.

“Rebecca,” he says in his stern parent voice and she rolls her eyes, but folds the envelope in half and pockets it. 

“Fine. You gonna introduce me to your boyfriend?”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Ok,” Becca sasses, tossing a lock of dark hair out of her eyes. “Introduce me to your not-boyfriend.”

They find Ellie and Stevie in the kitchen where Steve’s surprisingly strong arms are holding the little girl aloft in front of the pantry while she decides what juice box she wants.

“I see you’ve met my daughter,” Becca laughs. 

“I have.”

“Mama! His name is Steve.”

Grinning, she says, “Hello, Steve. Can I get you your own drink, or would you like a juice box?”

“Beer? Thanks for having us. Food smells incredible.”

“Thank you,” she calls over her shoulder. “I hope it is. Bucky’s such a terrible cook he makes us both look bad.” 

“Hey, I’m not terrible, I just only know how to make like three things.”

“Pancakes, macaroni ‘n’ cheese, and coffee.” She ticks the list off on her fingers.

“Sounds about right,” Steve replies, finally setting Ellie back down. He throws Bucky a fondly apologetic look.

“Fine, take her side,” Bucky groans. “This weekend is gonna be rough.”

“Oh quit your bitching.” Becca slaps his arm then hands him a beer. “I’m feeding you, and you’ve got delicious eye candy to ogle all weekend. This is a weekend sent from heaven.”

“True, true.” Bucky agrees, and besides, the comment made Steve blush beautifully.

“Wha’s eye candy?” Ellie asks. With a jump, she snags a handful of jolly ranchers from the shelf that’s supposed to be out of her reach, and puts one on each eye. “Like dis?”

The whole room dissolves into laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> up next chapter: hotel sex
> 
>  
> 
> visit me at seasless.tumblr.com


	3. Goddamn

Dinner is perfect.

Becca’s spaghetti is as good as their mom’s was (which is truly saying something), and Bucky says as much, making her smile sweet and small into her drink. Ellie and Steve hit it off, and Bucky is painfully endeared to the fact that it doesn’t seem like Steve’s playing a role or putting up a front to entertain the little girl. He’s genuinely amused by her, and chooses her company and conversation. Bucky knows the feeling, he just didn’t expect anyone else to. 

It’s got him weirdly in his head, so much so that as they trudge into the hotel Steve asks, “You ok?”

“Huh? What? Yeah, man. I’m good.” Steve’s jaw pinches a little, disbelieving and pissed about it. It’s mostly unsurprising. Bucky’s usually a fantastic liar but around Steve everything goes a little wonky. He tries to fix the disappointment on the other man’s face. “Seeing you with Ellie was...I dunno man. I haven’t seen that side of you before.”

“Is that a good or a bad thing?” Steve asks, and Bucky can hear the nervousness behind his nonchalance. 

“Great. You’re great. With her.”

“Oh.” He’s grinning, radiant and ethereal, and for a brief moment, Bucky wants more than this surface level agreement they've made. He wants mornings and weekends and sappy-sweet comments but he manages to dismiss the thought and check them in while Steve buys an inappropriate quantity of chips from the vending machine, and stuffs them in his bag.

“What?” he asks defensively as Bucky walks past him to the elevator. “You’re gonna steal half of these, so don’t even give me that.”

“I didn’t say shit,” Bucky chuckles, putting his hands in the air in submission.

“You were thinking loud enough for the whole damn floor to hear.” The elevator dings and they lug their shit in.

“The whole damn floor heard me thinking about the beautiful guy I’m about to fuck through the mattress? That’ll be awkward tomorrow…” Bucky teases, adjusting the bag on his shoulder absently when a small missile of a body knocks him back into the wall. 

Bucky moans and pulls Steve into him as they kiss, feeling the delicate iron of sinew and bone beneath his palms. Steve’s all fire and silk and in spite of his small size he's remarkably strong, manhandling Bucky over a little and shoving his bag to the floor. The elevator dings and Bucky half-assedly glances up. It's not their floor so he ignores it and goes back to licking into Steve’s mouth but then the door slides open on an elderly couple waiting to enter. 

They two boys break apart immediately, and even Bucky, who is irritatingly hard to embarrass, turns a little pink, but the couple doesn’t comment during the seconds to their floor. They have a hard time not cracking up, and the look on Steve’s face is making it a million times worse and Bucky’s not sure whether he’s being that goofy on purpose or not, but when the elevator pings again Steve hussles the fuck out of there. Bucky moves a little slower and the tiny old lady catches his arm. Chagrined, he smiles out a, “Sorry about that.” The old man snorts, and the woman says, “My boy, we couldn’t give a damn. But you gotta marry that kid, ok? We know the look, and you two? Got it bad.”

He freezes up. What’s he supposed to say? They decided ages ago to keep things casual. Steve’s way out of his league. It’s not even like - 

“I will,” his mouth says for him, quiet but sure, and she nods, satisfied.

“Good. Now go get some ass.”

“Oh my god,” Bucky mutters, turning even more red, and the old guy starts cracking up as he hurries to follow Steve.

“Took ya long enough,” Steve snarks, grinning over his shoulder as they enter. “Damn! This place is nice!”

It is: luxurious bed, big bathroom, even bigger tub. Bucky’d had a little extra left over after his yearly check to Becca and figured he’d spring it on something that made him happy. 

Which, turns out, is making Steve happy.

“Glad you think so. Least I could do to return the favor.”

Dropping his bag on the bed, Steve turns back to him, eyes soft. “Buck. There’s no favor. I’m really happy to be doing this with you.”

With you. Not for you.

“Yeah?” Bucky hates it when his voice gets all gentle like this, but he’d dare anyone in the world to look at Steve as he is now, crinkle-eyed smile, messy hair, top button undone, and keep their composure. He decides not to waste effort on a losing battle, and crosses to Steve. 

“What you lookin’ at?” Steve sasses, reeling him in by the bottom of his shirt. 

“Just the most gorgeous guy I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“You’re such a fuckin’ liar.” He sounds pleased.

Sliding his hand up the back of Steve’s neck, Buck murmurs, “That’s true, except I can’t seem to lie to you.”

“Really? So I could ask you anything…”

“Oh god, I’ve created a monster.”

“...and you’d answer truthfully?”

“I can’t promise that. Just that you’ll know if I’m lying.”

“Fair enough. How many people have you slept with?”

“Don’t remember. Fourteen maybe? You?”

“Twenty two. What's the weirdest sex dream you've ever had?”

“Uhhh, I don't remember…”

Steve throws his head back, laughing. “That bad, huh?”

“Shut up.” 

Kissing the pout off Bucky’s mouth he says, “We don’t have to talk about it. I would like you to make good on your word though, and fuck me through the mattress.” His eyes are twinkling and it’s making Buck lightheaded. 

“I can do that,” he breathes, and bends down to brush his lips across Steve’s.

For sex that started with the promise of fucking through the mattress, they go surprisingly slowly. They make out standing at the foot of the bed, Steve smoothing his hands around Buck’s waist under his shirt while Bucky cups Steve’s face tenderly. Eventually, Bucky gets Steve naked and pushes him back on the bed, grinning to cover the way his heart is pounding at the sight. 

“What're you so happy about?” Steve teases, abs flexing above delicate hips as he wiggles up the bed. 

“Hm…” Grinning deviously Bucky crawls over him, barely touching other than to nose up the inside of Steve’s thigh, lick a line just below his navel, nip gently at his ribs. The blond writhes beneath him, saying first with his body and then with his voice, “Come on, asshole. Touch me.” It's a sound sweeter than music, but when Steve reaches up Buck grabs his hands and pins them to the pillow. 

“You’re awfully bossy.”

“And you’re a fuckin’ tease.”

“Hey now, watch the name callin’ or I’m gonna have to school your ass,” he says playfully but Steve just shrugs and for a moment the fire in his eyes dims.

“Whatcha gonna call me?” Steve sasses, and he’s smiling but it’s not his, not Stevie’s, none of that too-bright, fills-the-hole-in-Buck’s-chest grin. No, he’s thinking of the other names he’s been called and it’s Bucky’s fault and he fixes it.

He noses down into the space between Steve’s shoulder and cheek to whisper, “Gorgeous.”

“Buck,” Steve murmurs.

“Or,” He lets go of Steve’s wrists and bites his neck softly. “Distractingly good looking.”

“Shut up.” 

Bucky’s still kissing down Steve’s chest, but he doesn’t stop. “Brilliant. Sexy.” Steve's fingers wind into Buck’s hair, holding him lightly. “Out of my league.”

“Hey.” He tugs Bucky up and says gently. “None of that's true.” 

Too honest, and too dumb to hide the fondness on his face, he disagrees. “It's all true.” 

Fingers tightening in Bucky’s hair, Steve holds Buck a few inches away, eyes dancing across his face, staring at or into him, and whatever he sees makes him start to smile again, and it’s his own smile but better, brighter, deeper somehow and for once they cut out the fucking banter and Steve pulls him down to press their mouths together. 

When Steve starts making little sighing noises, Bucky breaks away and slides back down his body, grinning as he runs his tongue along the lines of muscle and bone, down until he gets to Steve’s cock where it’s leaking on his stomach and licks a drop of precome away without ever touching where Steve wants him most.

Low and frustrated, that sexy growl floats over them both. “I swear to fucking god Buck…”

But Bucky’s done teasing. Chuckling, he finally sucks Steve’s cockhead into his mouth and slides down without any particular restraint, as far as he can go. Steve keens and rolls his hips up and Bucky’s chuckling turns into a groan. 

Taking Steve apart is an exercise in patience. Steve is rarely vulnerable with others, selfless but guarded, which means that here Steve is in charge, letting someone in. It’s heady, and gives an already intoxicating man the power to fucking wreck him, Bucky, a man who’s been in control for the better part of a decade. He’s rough and rude and doesn’t care for much but Becca and Ellie and coffee and 80’s action films, but Steve with his slender body and sharp angles and searing blue eyes makes him tender and nostalgic. Steve reaches inside him and without even meaning to rips away every ounce of composure and nervousness and suddenly Bucky’s the kind of man who reaches up to the thread his fingers through his partner’s as he sucks his cock. The kind of man that gets so overwhelmed by giving someone _else_ a blowjob that he pulls off as the slender chest above him starts rising and falling more quickly to gasp, “Stevie.”

“Buck,” Steve sighs back, so full of returned emotion that Bucky is suddenly grateful he forgot the lube in his bag. He needs a moment.

When he slides back onto the bed, Steve pulls him down and then over to perch in Bucky’s lap, plucking the bottle from his fingers. He slicks them both up, then pours more into Bucky’s palm, linking their fingers together in a slick slide to spread it around before guiding his hand back. The both pause a breath as Buck circles Steve's hole with the pad of one finger and Steve whines loudly for more. Bucky wants to give it to him worse than almost anything, but even more importantly, he's not gonna hurt Steve, whose body can take a pounding, but not without a little prep. Besides. Steve’s so fuckin’ pretty when he’s begging.

Buck grins up at him, trying not to get distracted by the way Steve is rolling his hips against Bucky’s knuckles, hands propped on his chest. He tilts his head back and lets his eyes slip closed as he grinds, exposing the lines of his neck, his clavicle, fucking mouth-watering. 

“Yessss,” he sighs as Buck sinks one finger all the way in, twisting and letting a second nudge the edge of Steve’s hole. “Fuck yeah Buck. More. Gimme more.”

“Mmm,” Bucky hums, trying to stay grounded. “Why should I?”

“Because,” Steve snarks with the cutest, sassiest little head tilt. “I wanna ride your cock, and you won’t let me until I can take three fingers.”

“Oh baby, you know I’m bigger than that.”

Steve’s eyes sparkle. “And you know I like it when it aches a little.”

“Fuck, Stevie.” He slides the second finger in and they both hiss. 

“Come on asshole. One more.”

“Christ, you’re so fuckin’ mouthy.”

“Fuck off, you love it.”

“Yeah,” Buck whispers. “I do.” 

From cocky to wide-eyed to kissing him fiercely, Steve takes his fuckin’ breath away and they last a grand total of two more minutes before Steve shoves one of his own fingers in alongside Bucky’s and groans and the sound has Buck leaking onto his stomach. He slowly withdraws his fingers and by the time he’s done wiping them on the bedspread Steve has them lined up and is starting to sink down. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Stevie, goddamn it.” He curls his fingers around Steve’s hips, more to brace himself than the man riding him, then breathes deeply and tries to relax into it all.

It’s a lot to take in. Steven Grant Rogers is like a sculpture, wire and silk, priceless. As he rides Buck he lets his head fall back again, hair falling into his face until something catches his attention, maybe Bucky made a noise, but whatever it is, Steve stares him down and goes at it, gradually speeding up his pace. It feels so fuckin’ good, that gorgeous little smirk at the corner of Steve’s mouth, daring Buck to make a joke out of what is obviously a very real connection. He wouldn’t dream of it. Or - if he could, he would love to, but Steve’s got him wrapped around his finger.

Buck plunges back in, but he’s barely doing any work, Steve has officially taken over, fucking himself quick and deep on Bucky’s cock. He looks beautiful, powerful, and Bucky wants to watch this forever, watch the flush creep across his chest, watch the muscles in his slender body, watch those eyes…

“Buck,” Steve gasps.

He pulls Steve down for kiss, keeping his eyes open and he sees every furrow of Steve’s brow, every surprised wince of pleasure, and when Steve catches him watching he softens into sweet and vulnerable and Bucky’s orgasm creeps up on him without warning at that look, rocks him for so long that Steve has time to jerk himself off all over them both before Buck’s even begun to come down.

\--

They pass the fuck out. 

When Bucky wakes again, it’s light out, and Steve is curled up against his side, breathing slowly. It’s not the first time they’ve ever woken up together, but it’s the first time they’ve slept through the night in the same bed. It’s the first time he gets to wake up to morning light kissing Steve’s skin as gently as he wishes he could. 

Gentle fingers brushing over his busted knuckles startle him into glancing down as Steve picks up his hand and presses a kiss to each and every scrape before blinking up sleepily and smiling, “Mornin’.”

“Mornin’,” Buck gasps. How could he not?

“Breakfast?” It makes him laugh. It’s a mystery how Steve’s always fuckin’ eating and still so small. 

“If you want. I usually just do coffee.”

Steve frowns. “When do you eat breakfast?”

Shrugging Buck yawns, “Don’t. They serve us lunch at work.” 

“And dinner?”

“When I get home sometimes.” He’s checking his phone for any texts from Becca so he doesn’t notice Steve’s scowl until the warm lump next to him moves away, trotting to his bag and pulling out his wallet, returning to the bed and immediately picking up the phone.

“Hey, yeah room 433, I’d like to order some breakfast.” Pause. “Yeah, please. Pancakes. An omelet with lots of cheese. Don’t care what kind. Waffle. How many slices come in an order of bacon? Only five? We’ll take three. No, orders. You got any mac ‘n’ cheese? Yes for breakfast. Thanks. Aaaand, hash browns. Yep. That's it. Can I pay with a separate card? Great. Can I just read you the number?” There’s a pause where Steve rolls his eyes but adopts a sugary voice. “Come on, Megan, just this once? You’ve already been so great, and it’d help me out a lot… Great! Thank you so much.” 

He reads off his card number, easy as you please, then hangs up and as he stalks to the shower mutters, “Today, you’re eating breakfast.”

It takes Bucky a few minutes to get his body working again, but he springs out of bed and catches up with Steve as the smaller man steps into the shower, barging in behind him.

“Oh yeah, of course,” Steve snarks good-naturedly. “I’d love some co-” He cuts off as Bucky drops to his knees and takes him into his mouth.

Bucky takes care of everyone, himself included, though usually last. No one takes care of him. Except this sarcastic, skinny little fucker with a smart mouth and a huge heart and Bucky fucking loves him for it. Twists his hand along the whatever he can’t reach, sliding his tongue along the bottom of Steve’s cock, he has him coming in moments, so hard he has to catch himself on Bucky’s shoulder. 

“What was that for?” he gasps as Buck stands and brushes water from his eyes. 

He shrugs, smiling, and leans in to kiss Steve. He can’t say ‘thanks’ or ‘I just like it’ or ‘I’m in love with you,’ so instead he tucks his face into Steve’s neck, shy with all the words caught in his throat, and jacks himself until Steve takes over with a tisk, whispering sweet and warm into his ear until he shudders inward, sighing Steve’s name.


	4. Asshole

“So...what am I in for here?” Steve asks, perching next to Bucky on the window ledge.

“Well,” Bucky murmurs, exhaling smoke into the cool breeze and smiling at the way Steve watches his mouth. “A lot of moms. You’re going to get hit on like crazy, for the record.” Steve huffs and rolls his eyes but it’s indisputable and Bucky doesn’t even bother arguing. He’ll see soon enough.

“Food. Little kids. Cake. Clean up. Tomorrow we’ll take Ellie to the New York State Museum.”

“The museum?”

“Yeah,” Bucky chuckles along with Steve. “Her request. Her ma got all the brains in the family so I guess it makes sense. Ow! What was that for?” he mutters, rubbing his shoulder where Steve had socked him soundly.

“You are smart as hell, Bucky Barnes. Quit saying otherwise.”

Buck flicks his cigarette out the window and pulls it shut. “Whatever you say, boss.”

For the second time in as many days, Steve tackles him, this time to the bed, hitting out of nowhere and so suddenly that Bucky just goes with the momentum.

“What the - ?”

He’s full of breakfast. Maybe that’s why he’s moving so slowly. By the time he gets his wits about him, Steve has Bucky’s lower half naked and his knees pushed up and apart.

“Steve - ”

“No,” he growls. “You listen here.” He kneels at the foot of the bed and Bucky feels strong hands under his legs then cool fingers spreading him open. “You -” And Steve licks a hot stripe over his hole. “Are brilliant. And gorgeous. I don’t care what job you have. Those things will always be true.”

“Stevie -” This time his name is turned to a whine as Steve begins to open him up with his tongue, fucking in just the littlest bit at first and squeezing his thighs roughly. Rarely does Bucky allow this, he gets too far gone when anyone plays with his ass, but he doesn’t want it to stop so he slams his eyes shut and prays Steve’ll go easy on him.

It sort of works. Steve gets him sloppy and writhing and then works the tip of one slender finger in with plenty of spit to ease the way, twisting until he finds Bucky’s prostate.

“Holy fuck!” he shouts and looks down as Steve sits up on his knees.

“That’s more like it,” he grins. “Now. Say it.”

“Say - ah! - what?”

“Say that you’re brilliant.”

“I - what?”

“You heard me,” and he bends down, sucking Bucky’s cock into his mouth.

Buck’s whole body jerks inward. “You’re biased,” he gasps.

“Am not,” Steve replies, then goes right back to blowing him until Buck says, “Steve. I’m not,” at which point, Steve not only slides off his cock, but starts pulling his finger out.

“No!”

“Then say it,” Steve says, playful but insistent. “Or you don’t get to come.”

“Fine! I’m fuckin’ smart?” Bucky shouts. He doesn't mean it but if Steve stops he’s going to fucking die. It works. Steve slides his mouth back down around Buck’s cock and finds his prostate at the same time, working him quick and hard until Buck’s coming loudly down his throat.

“Fuck,” he mutters, slumping back into the bed, and Steve stands, flushed and wiping his mouth. “For the record, you can’t always just blow me into submission.”

“Why not?” Steve asks, grinning and Buck just shakes his head and pulls him down for a kiss.

\--

They make it back to Becca’s only a half hour late, and she doesn't mince words at how impressed she is by the fact. “I thought for sure you guy’s would be fucking til at least noon.”

“No,” Bucky argues, offended. “We said we’d help set up.”

“Yeah, yeah, Robin Hood. Go see your niece.”

Ellie comes barreling out of the house in striped tights and a denim jacket covered plastic gems. She's radiant. “Uncle Bug!”

Bucky has agreed to man the grill for the day, mostly because it’s a great excuse to avoid people, so he spends the morning in the kitchen preparing food while Steve and Becca set up tables and decorate outside. Ellie sprints between the kitchen and the yard: a chocolate-smeared, bedazzled pendulum until the guests start showing up.

The kids are adorable, as promised, and surprisingly the moms are on their best behavior. Not even one ass grab all afternoon. Bucky wonders if Becca said something to them. Or maybe it’s Steve.

Bucky wasn’t kidding when he said the mom’s would go crazy over him. Steve’s gorgeous and sweet and laughs easily, and they’re fucking fawning over him, but respectfully, none of the vaguely inappropriate comments of past years.

From his post by the grill, Bucky watches Steve play catch with a few of the kids, sweater rolled up revealing delicate wrists. Bucky wants to run his lips up and down the silk of Steve’s forearms, bite the sensitive skin at the inside of his elbow just to hear his breath catch. Jokes on him though because Steve abandons the game a few minutes later and comes trotting over, cheeks flushed and hair a sexy goddamn mess and it's Bucky who finds himself breathless.

“Havin’ fun?” he manages.

“Yeah, but you weren't kidding about the moms. Piranhas.”

“Well, I don't blame them, you are cute as hell.”

“Cute?” Steve bristles indignantly, but Buck can see the corner of his mouth twitch.

“Hey I just call ‘em like I see ‘em.”

He can tell by the glint in Steve's eye that shit’s about to go down, but they’re interrupted.

Ellie’s best friend is an equally precocious little boy named KJ, and his mother is sweet but forceful, so when she sweeps in and hugs Bucky with just a little too much affection, he’s irritated but not surprised.

“James!”

“Hey, Kendra. How’s it going?”

“Great! The kids are getting so big!” It’s totally innocent conversation, but her arm is still around his waist and Steve is starting to glare just a little.

“They are,” he agrees with a smile. “KJ was telling me about his soccer team.”

“He loves it so much, and he’s good at it, although I think Ellie is still kicking his ass.”

Bucky shrugs with a laugh. “What she lacks in size she makes up for in enthusiasm.”

“So true.” She pats him on the chest and Steve clears his throat, clearly disgruntled. Kendra zeros in on him, a flirtatious grin creeping across her face as she moves towards him and now it’s Bucky who’s staring daggers. “And who might this be?”

“My boyfriend, Steve.”

All three of them freeze. Kendra looks surprised, Bucky is terrified he just fucked up big time, and Steve is...unreadable. Guarded.

“Well how nice! Pleased to meet you Steve. I’m Kendra.”

Steve nods politely and shakes her hand before dodging around and sliding under Bucky’s arm. “And you. Which one is yours?” he asks, nodding to the yard full of little ones. 

She and Steve chat for a few minutes but Bucky misses all of it, flipping burgers and turning the corn on autopilot. He’s aware of nothing but Steve’s hand, warm on his side, and the fact that he just told a relative stranger that he and Steve were dating. Which they’re categorically not.

He’s so caught up in it he doesn’t even notice when Kendra leaves, and startles to Steve murmuring, “How’s that freak out going?”

“I’m not freaking out,” Bucky blurts.

“Of course not. But if you were wondering,” he says softly, letting his hand drift up and down Bucky’s back. “I’m glad you said it.”

“Yeah?” Bucky whispers. Did that mean...

“Yeah. Wasn’t really lookin’ forward to getting manhandled. So. Thanks.”

“No problem.” He turns back to the grill feeling weirdly off kilter at Steve's response.

It had felt right. The words in his mouth. _My boyfriend._ Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

“This’s great,” Steve says through a mouthful of corn, plucked from the grill.

“Hey! That’s for later.”

“Makin’ sure it’s not poisonous.” He pauses to take another huge bite. “Thought you couldn’t cook.”

“Can’t and don’t are two very different things.”

“Why don’t you?”

The responses are endless. His kitchen is too small, food is expensive, he only knows a few recipes, last person he cooked with was his ma… He ends up shrugging and turning the hot dogs and hoping Steve will let it go.

In true Steve fashion, he does even better. Eyes impossibly soft, he leans up, kisses Bucky’s temple, and walks back to where the kids are playing.

The rest of the day goes relatively without incident. The kids play themselves out with with only minor injuries. Steve charms every damn person there, and it takes an awful lot of Bucky's control to keep from staring at him the entire time, which is how Becca manages to sneak up on him.

“I'm in love with your boyfriend.”

Buck jumps so bad he almost drops his beer. “Shit! What?” he asks, licking escaped drips off his wrist.

“Steve. I love him.”

“Yeah, he's great right? We’re not dating though.”

“Yeah right.”

“What - we’re not.”

“Why? You like him, and he’s obviously crazy about you.”

“It's not...I'm not...wait. Crazy about me?”

Becca stares. “You seriously can't see that? Buck, he fuckin’ lights up at the sight of you.”

Bucky shrugs and watches in amusement as Becca wars with herself in an attempt not to freak out on him. He misses being able to piss her off.

Everyone eventually congregates on the lawn to eat. Cake comes next, and presents, and Ellie is beside herself about the inflatable couch that Steve got her for her room. He grins shyly and shrugs as if to say, ‘It’s nothing,’ and it occurs to Bucky that he probably thinks it is, doesn’t know how rare and precious that gleeful grin on Ellie’s face is, or even more powerful, the way Becca smiles, satisfied, like she’s done alright. For that alone Bucky owes him more than he could ever repay.

The crowd dwindles as nap time draws nigh but some of the kids last longer than Bucky had thought they would. KJ and Ellie make it all the way to sundown before passing the fuck out in Steve and Bucky’s laps where the men recline in lawn chairs, chatting by the fire.

“Thanks for your help today,” Buck murmurs, stroking Ellie’s hair.

Steve huffs. “O’ course. I had a great time. Nice change of pace from sitting through long meetings under florescent lights.”

“You’re damn good at your job, though.”

“How do you know?”

Bucky smiles shyly. “I may have google-stalked you a little.”

“I see,” Steve chuckles. “Well thank you. I enjoy it, cubicle living aside.”

“And the moms didn’t eat you alive.”

“Close thing though.”

“I’d have fought them off.”

“Defended my honor?” Steve teases and Buck nods, all fake somber.

“Uncle Bug ‘fends mama too. He’s an espert.”

“Expert, sweetie,” Buck corrects, trying to deflect the comment.

“Like you help when Daddy left.”

“Yeah,” he whispers, pressing a kiss into her hairline. “Sleep, baby girl.” She readjusts her arms around his neck, squishes her face into him, and the sweet gesture almost helps with the aching in his chest. Steve’s watching him with the most vulnerable expression of fondness and it takes Buck’s breath away, makes him want to explain. He checks to make sure El is really out then murmurs, “Her dad was an acquaintance of mine from college. I introduced him and Bec. Turns out he’s a piece of shit. He left when Bec was five months pregnant, bailed, haven’t heard from him since.”

“What the fuck,” Steve breathes, furious and horrified.

“Yeah.” Guilt weighs heavy on his chest.

“Wait. You don’t blame yourself for that do you?”

He shrugs. “I dunno. If I hadn’t introduced them…”

“If you hadn’t introduced them we wouldn’t have Ellie. And what a tragedy that would have been.”

Smiling crookedly, Bucky nods. “True.”

“What did you go to college for?”

“Uh…Structural Engineering. Didn’t graduate though,” he clarifies quickly.

“Why?”

“Dropped out. I had…college was real expensive. I didn’t have the grades in high school to get a scholarship, and then with Ellie…we needed money. Beck needed money. And construction pays real well…”

“And you never went back.”

Buck huffs. “Obviously. It’s fine though. Not really practical.”

“Why not?’

Defensiveness is growing in Bucky’s chest and it sneaks into his voice. “Let it go.”

Steve blinks, surprised but not put off and says, “I think you’d be great, if you ever went back.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not gonna.”

“That’s fine. But if you did. You’d be great.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do, actually. Whether you believe me or not,” Steve adds more softly, and it cracks something open inside him. The fire is warm, almost too hot on his shins, and Ellie’s breathing deeply on his chest and it just spills out.

“Our parents died when we were little.”

“So you take care of Becca.”

“Right. And if I go back to school...I mean I make enough, but not extra, not enough to pay for tuition and…”

He expects Steve to reprimand him, tell him to take what’s his, but instead he nods. “It makes sense Buck. But you gotta know…”

“I do, I do,” he interrupts quickly. “But it’s been years and…I don’t know if that’s who I am anymore - college material. Lot of things I don’t know about myself lately.”

When he glances up at Steve he’s caught in the intensity of the gaze. “What do you know, then?”

There’s a challenge in his voice and Bucky finds himself wanting to push back just as hard. “I know I love my family.” His voice is just breath without his permission. “I know I’m strong. Resourceful.” He pauses. “Scared.”

“Scared?”

The next statement is directly corollary, but Steve doesn’t need to know that; it looks like Bucky ignoring the question. “I know that I like you.”

A toothy grin floods Steve’s face. “I like you, too.”

Heat spreads across his face and through his chest, joy so bright it’s like pain. It screams danger, it’s not safe to expose such intimate parts of himself, but Steve makes him want to, and that terrifies him.

“I know I’m ready to put these two to bed.”

“Amen,” Steve replies, letting the conversation drop. “My arm is falling asleep.”

\--

“What is that noise?”

“Nothing,” Steve replies through a mouthful of something.

Buck pokes his head out of the hotel bathroom to see Steve perched on the desk in their room eating a bag of chips.

“Really? We ate like two hours ago.”

“Shut up. I’m a growing boy.” He does look ridiculously small.

Buck scoffs and rolls his eyes, but also grabs a handful, and Steve licks his arm in retaliation. “Everything’s so expensive,” he mutters, wiping his arm on Steve's shoulder and looking at the minibar.

“Let’s go get something from the gas station. Up and at ‘em,” Steve commands when Bucky doesn't move, hopping down and slapping Buck’s ass hard enough to hurt.

“Fuck, man! Got an arm on ya.” He turns away so Steve doesn’t see his grin as he laces up his boots.

They pocket their room keys and meander out into the dark. The gas station is less than a block away, and as they mozy Steve reaches over and threads their fingers together, and again Bucky’s whole body is swept with warmth. They may not be dating, and Steve’s way out of his league, but this is perfect. He’s not about to sabotage it.

“You are a child,” Bucky teases, shaking his head in amazement when he realizes that they've returned to the hotel with not only a case of beer but also almost a pound in gummies which Steve promptly tears into.

“Who doesn't like gummies?” Steve yelps from where he’s flopped on the bed. Bucky leans down and bites the candy Steve's about to eat from his fingers with a devious grin, letting his lips slide like silk over Steve's knuckles. 

Steve's eyes darken as he chews more slowly, thoughtful, and it draws Bucky's eyes to his mouth. That fucking mouth. Bottom lip plush, top lip with the most perfect Cupid's bow: made for kissing, for laughing, for stretching wet and wide around Bucky's cock. The corner of it is quirked up now, a sly little smile that has Bucky embarrassingly weak in the knees.

"Come back here,” Steve's smirks, beckoning with one finger and pulling Bucky even closer as he complies.

The cool air in the hotel room warms suddenly, becomes heavier as Steve sucks the pointer and middle digit of Bucky's right hand into his mouth, swirling a silken tongue over one than the other, blue eyes shimmering beautifully bright.

“Fuck,” Bucky breathes and Steve smiles around his fingers before slowly pulling off.

“Beer,” he commands, breaking the moment by popping another gummy shark into his mouth. Bucky sticks his tongue out but obeys, opening two and flipping on the TV just for the noise before propping himself up against the headboard next to Steve. They drink in silence for a long moment, Bucky watching the hockey scores in the crawl at the bottom of the screen when he hears Steve say, “I’ve had pneumonia sixteen times. I’ve slept with three of my bosses.”

Buck turns to him, surprised and worried. “What?”

“Which one’s the lie?”

“What?”

“If you guess which is the lie, I drink. If you’re wrong, you drink.”

Bucky barks a laugh. “I totally believe you’ve slept with three bosses.”

“Hey!” Steve’s not really offended, in fact, Buck thinks he might be flattered.

“What? You’re beautiful, talented, charming...you could probably get the president to blow you if you tried.”

Steve’s giggle is so cute Bucky catches himself rubbing his own chest in an effort to sooth the cramp there, especially as the blond says, “Nice try. Drink up, motherfucker.”

“Noooo!” Buck groans, then, “Wait. Sixteen times? Holy shit, Stevie.”

He shrugs, looking vaguely uncomfortable. “Medicine’s a lot better these days.” The thought of having lost him, of having missed out on this has Buck sweeping in to kiss him soundly.

“What was that for?”

Yeah right, like Bucky’s ever going to tell him. Instead he employs a classic deflection, swigging his beer and prompting, “I built a robot in high school and I was an amateur powerlifter for a few years. Lie?”

Without a pause Steve says, “Powerlifter’s the lie.”

“The fuck?” He’s right. Of course. “How…”

“You’re brilliant. I’m not surprised.”

“Fuck,” Bucky mutters, blushing and takes another drink. Steve joins him in solidarity before tossing a gummy worm into the air, but Bucky jerks forward, intercepts it’s trajectory, and catches it in his mouth.

Steve slaps him, but his eyes are sparkling. “Fucker.” He gets the next gummy before saying, “I’m ambidextrous. I’m bilingual.”

Bucky thinks of the ease with which Steve’s talented hands slice and sketch and stroke. “Bilingual’s the lie.”

“Correct,” Steve commends, swigging his beer.

“I used to play tennis. I used to play saxophone.”

“Oh my god, you never played tennis.”

“Ha! Wrong.”

“No! You? Mr. Leather Jackets and black coffee and action movies? Tennis?” He’s chucking again, but he’s so beautiful Bucky’s finding it hard to be offended. “Now I’m imagining you in those preppy shorts…”

“Fuck you. It’s actually a really challenging sport if you’re -”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m drinking. Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. Ok, um... I got an art scholarship. I got a writing scholarship.”

Bucky frowns as Steve waggles his eyebrows and sips his beer. “Fine. I’ll bite. You got a writing scholarship?” Art's too obvious.

Steve nods, taking a long pull. “I missed the deadline for the art’s scholarships because I was sick, but when I applied I’d written this essay...they liked it a lot, published it somewhere...anyway, they gave me a scholarship for it.”

“Cool,” Bucky murmurs, surprised and impressed. “Alright...um… I’ve had four girlfriends. I’ve never bottomed.”

Steve runs a cool finger up and down Bucky’s forearm, thinking. “The lie… Well, I thought you were straight when we met, so… the bottoming is the lie?”

Bucky smirks, grateful that here at least he can pull off a few untruths and have Steve believe him. “Nope. Never had a girlfriend.”

“What?” Steve whispers. “But you…”

“Pass? Yeah, I know.” Bucky glances down where Steve is still tracing the veins in his arm. “But I always knew. Didn’t seem fair to make anyone my beard, you know?”

Steve is staring at him strangely, like he’s a puzzle or a rare artifact. “So you’ve been out for...forever, but you’ve never bottomed?”

“Nope.”

“Why?”

“I just…”

Steve seems to realize how personal the question is and backpedals a little. “I mean, if you don’t like it-”

“No, no, it’s not that. Opposite, actually. I just...get overwhelmed.”

Steve’s jaw drops and he immediately sits up and swings his leg over Bucky’s, planting himself in the taller man’s lap.

“You are a remarkable man, Bucky Barnes.”

It’s a perfect time for a joke, but for once, Bucky doesn’t really feel like it.

“You, too.”

Steve smiles, small and sweet, and sets his beer down on the bedside table. Damp fingers trace up Bucky’s neck as Steve cups his face in his hands, holding him still to kiss him deeply.

The game disappears in the heat of the kiss, beer and sugar and Steve on his tongue, and suddenly his body is profoundly aware of how little they’d touched that day, how much they’d had to play nice. Involuntarily, he groans, but it turns into a whimper when Steve slides off of him.

“Where are you -”

Steve’s answer is brandishing the bottle of lube he pulls from his bag. As he returns to the bed, Bucky stops him. “Wait. Take your clothes off.”

His smile is shy, but when Buck says, “Please?”, Steve complies. Jeans first, slipping down his legs easily, and boxers falling after. His legs are slender but not quite skinny, enough muscle to make Bucky’s jaw ache with the urge to bite. He’s hard, too, but the full image is distracting enough to draw Buck’s eyes up as Steve pulls his shirt over his head.

“You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous, Stevie,” he breathes and watches the blush crawl down Steve’s neck. He is though, hips sharp where they lead to delicate lines of muscle up his torso. He wears clothing that’s too damn big for him, making him look smaller than he is. He’s not built like Bucky, but he’s a beautiful man.

Buck’s not sure when he’d stood up, but he crosses to Steve and takes him in his arms, reveling in the shared warmth and the way the smaller man melts against him. They fit together, Bucky thinks, like chain links or the place where two bones meet. Steve’s hands creep around to Buck’s back, sweeping long, firm paths over then under his shirt, tugging it up and then off. Bucky holds the smaller man tight to him, watches through lowered eyelashes as Steve kisses down his sternum then back up to bite his collarbone. Buck hisses, pleasure and pain, and Steve looks inordinately pleased with himself.

“Over the bed.”

Steve huffs but complies, bending over to rest his forearms and elbows on the comforter and waits, swaying his hips from side teasingly, but he blinks questioningly over his shoulder when he hears Bucky’s knees hit the carpet.

“Buck?”

Bucky is not the kind of person who gets down on his knees for anyone. But Steve, terrifyingly enough, is unlike anyone else in the world, and Buck wants him in every way it’s possible to want someone. He slaps Steve’s ass lightly then grabs his cheeks, pulling them apart, and slowly circles Steve’s hole with his tongue.

“Hoooooly fuck.”

Buck smiles against his skin and repeats the motion. Steve shivers.

Bucky thinks about their day. About how Steve looked standing next to Becca with KJ in his arms. Thinks about how he speaks kindly and respectfully even when he's uncomfortable, how he plays silly games with little kids and genuinely enjoys them, how he insists on tasting everything ahead of time. Thinks about how Steve hadn't minded his claim of exclusivity, even when it wasn't true. Bucky thinks about how badly he wishes it were. He’s not surprised that Steve hasn’t asked him out. He’d be shocked if Steve did. The fact remains that the more Bucky gets to know him, the more they fit, the more it seems right instead of just convenient, the more it feels like the night they met was something bigger than a coincidence or cosmic joke . Like maybe they were supposed to be together, maybe this is one of those once in a lifetime, once in a century, once in a galaxy type things.

It's fanciful at best and stupid at worst but he can't help himself, not when Steve is pushing back into his mouth, trembling and flushed, cock hard and leaking on the bedspread from just the touch of Bucky’s tongue.

“Come on Bucky, fuck. Please.”

Some days Bucky can hold out, tease a little, but today isn’t one of them. He slicks his hand up and fingers Steve open, his other palm pressed into the small of Steve’s back so he’s arching that beautiful ass into the air as hard as he can, presenting without thinking about it, begging wit his body unconsciously.

“Fuck, please, come on Buck, fuck me already, please…”

“Easy baby.”

Steve hisses affirmations as Buck bottoms out, rocking back against his hips a few times and Bucky curls forward, wrapping himself over Steve’s back, lacing their fingers together. He fucks into him nice and slow, breathing against the silk of Steve's neck to keep a level head but the smell of him is doing the exact opposite. Nose filled with that scent that’s just Steve, buried to the hilt, their knuckles linked against the quilt Bucky finds himself desperate, aching, simultaneously empty and too full and he whispers. “Stevie.”

“Huh?” he pants

“I’m crazy about you.” It’s not an ‘I love you.’ It’s not.

“Oh Buck. I’m crazy ‘bout you.” The smile is evident in his voice even as his sentence ends in a whine when Bucky thrusts into him just right.

It's scarcely believable. “Yeah?”

“Over the moon.” He pulls their joined right hands to his mouth and kisses Bucky’s fingers. “Now fuck me.”

Like always, for always, Bucky obeys.


	5. Fucking Finally

Steve Rogers is without a doubt the most beautiful man in the world. Even after rough sex and a hard night of sleep he looks fucking ethereal, slender fingers curled under his cheek, long lashes shading his skin, and when he opens his eyes, sweet and groggy, they’re sea foam, robin’s egg, so pure that Bucky almost wants to cry.

Instead he rumbles, “Mornin’ sweetheart.” It’s stupidly sappy and Bucky winces, worried that Steve’ll tease him, but instead the smaller man blushes and buries his face in the pillow for a breath then wriggles forward to press himself flush to Bucky’s body. Steve nuzzles under his chin, slips a knee between Buck’s legs, and winds warm arms around him tightly. 

“‘G’mornin’.”

“How you feelin’?” he murmurs, softly stroking Steve’s hair back and away from his face.

“Like a million bucks.”

“Really?” He runs a finger over a blooming bruise he’d sucked into Steve’s neck last night, worried, but the smaller man sighs contentedly and wriggles closer. 

“Really. I mean, I’m a little sore, but...great. Better than great. How’re you?”

Bucky’s so busy grinning against Steve’s forehead that he almost doesn’t answer, and so full of affection that he has to go with the easiest truth. 

“Starving. Can I take you to breakfast?”

“Mmm. If you can get me outta bed. I’m enjoying the hell out of this.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, got this beautiful guy with his arms around me. Kinda don’t wanna move.”

Buck chuckles. “How ‘bout room service then?”

Steve nods against his chest. “Waffles,” he mumbles, and falls back asleep.

They’re not meeting up with Becca and Ellie until later in the day, so Bucky lets Steve sleep. He orders food and gets up to bring it into the room, but immediately returns to bed, pulling Steve back into his arms. It feels too good not to. His hair tickles Buck’s cheek softly, and Steve’s torso expanding and contracting steady and even beneath Bucky’s hands is the most perfect reminder that this isn’t a dream, this is his, theirs, and he might even get to keep it. 

When Steve finally does wake again they curl up in the center of the bed, Bucky still naked and Steve wearing a robe from the hotel, skin flushed pink from a hot shower. They eat waffles covered in peanut butter and nutella. Bucky contemplates the future.

\--

“Birds, birds, birds, birds, little birds, big birds, blue bird, yellow bird, bird, bird, what does that say please?” 

Steve stares at Ellie where’s she’s perched on Bucky’s hip with his arm around her back for a beat then laughs so loudly a woman next to them flinches. Bucky just shrugs. Ellie is...well, Ellie.

He complies though, brushing a lock of hair from her eyes before saying, “Alright baby girl. It says, “Osprey is a monotypic family of fish-eating birds of prey, possessing a very large, powerful hooked beak for tearing flesh from their prey, strong legs, powerful talons and keen eyesight. There is one species worldwide, which occurs in North America and New York.”

“What is mon - typic?”

“It means it’s the only bird in it’s group, sweetie,” Buck replies. He’s being a total nerd but Steve is smiling fondly about it, so he must not mind too much, and Ellie goes back to singing about animals. 

The museum has been a wild success so far. Burgers for lunch, then a mastodon skeleton, the birds, and when Bucky asks what she wants to see next she says quietly, “Where dey look like KJ.”

The Harlem Renaissance. It’s a cool exhibit, Bucky’s seen it before, and Ellie likes the jazz, asks Bucky or Steve to read her several of the poems, stares open mouthed at the photographs, touching the glass with her tiny chubby fingers. 

“Sad eyes, sad eyes,” she chants, brushing her hands over one picture. “So happy faces, so sad eyes.”

Bucky nods, swallowing hard. “Yeah. But they’re strong people.”

“Like Mama.”

“Like Mama. Like you.”

“Why so sad eyes?”

“Well,” Buck sighs, glancing at Steve for help. All he gets is an encouraging smile. “This country isn’t always good to people who are different, especially people with dark skin.”

“Like KJ and his mama.”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I think… people are scared, baby girl, and ignorant. Do you know what slavery is?”

“Dey put chains on and be mean.”

“Yeah. White people put chains on black people.”

Ellie stares horrified first at her own little pale arm and then at Bucky.

“But dat _wrong_.”

Buck nods. “Yep. And we made it illegal.”

“We say sorry!”

“Eh…” He glances around the exhibit, absorbing the color, the sounds, the faces. “Not really. And I think that’s part of why white people have made it so hard for people that look different than us.”

“Cuz we feel bad?”

“And nervous. If the places were switched and we got what we gave...It’s messed up how wrong it all is, and instead of fixing it, people look away.”

“But…” Ellie shimmies down to the ground and puts her hands on her hips. “No! So...stupid! Scaredy cats! No! Cats are nice! Scaredy spiders!”

Chuckling, Buck kneels down to her level. “Exactly.”

“What we do?” Ellie asks seriously. “I fix it.”

“Oh baby girl. You will.”

“How?”

“You gotta figure it out. Learn about what went wrong. Think about your actions. Ask KJ what he thinks. Listen to people, especially people who are different from you.”

“Like Steve listen to people,” she murmurs, smiling up, and Bucky follows her eyes to where Steve is standing next to them wearing and unreadable expression. 

“Yeah Ellie girl. Like Steve.”

“I fix it,” she repeats, and tugs Steve’s hand.

“I know you will,” he replies, picking her up and Bucky stands to join them. 

They hit a few more exhibits on their way out but both men are quieter than usual, listening to El and acquiescing to her requests, but not adding many of their own. Bucky’s briefly worried that Steve’s put off: racial politics with a toddler isn’t something many people are excited to navigate, but he figures Steve’s a better guy than to be bothered by that. Besides, the smaller man keeps bumping shoulders, hips, elbows with Bucky while they stand around waiting for El to explore, touching him more often and more publicly than they ever have before. 

As they head back to the main atrium Ellie says, “Thanks for my present. I love.”

“I’m glad, darlin’,” Bucky offers, kissing her forehead.

“Glad you here too, Steve!” she says and he laughs. 

“Me, too. Thank you for - .”

“Steve?” 

A rough voice echoes from across the hall and all three of them glance up. 

“Rick? Hey!”

A handsome man crosses the sleek marble, all sinuous ease of motion. He walks right up to Steve and kisses him on the cheek and Bucky’s proud of himself for not growling.

“How are you?” the man asks.

“Good. You? How’s work?”

“Oh, you know, same old. We’ve got a new project downtown though, close to your neck of the woods, maybe you could swing by.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Steve doesn’t seem too psyched and the guy picks up on it.

“Forgot you never liked engineering talk.”

“That is completely untrue.”

“The entire year we dated you let me get in less than five conversations in about my job.”

“Wasn’t about the job, Rick.”

The room cools. Even Ellie senses the shift, bumping her face into Bucky’s clavicle, but he barely feels it. Gorgeous guy. Engineer. Steve’s ex. 

The loathing is starting to creep in, aimed inwards, and he’s tuned out whatever they’re talking about now. Figures. Just as he and Steve are getting comfortable someone crashes into their lives to remind Steve how much better he can do. About three quarters of the way through his internal self-hate mantra he hears, “Who’s this?”

There’s absolutely no pause. Steve turns and takes Bucky’s hand, the one that’s not bracing Ellie to his hip, and says, “This is my boyfriend, Bucky Barnes, and his niece Ellie.”

“Boyfriend,” Rick repeats, glancing between the two of them.

Shock followed directly by joy breaks out in Bucky’s chest, so strong he almost laughs aloud but instead manages to nod courteously. “Nice to meet you.”

“And you,” Rick murmurs, then whistles quietly. “Damn Rogers. He’s gorgeous.”

Steve grins. “I know. It was good seeing you Rick, but we gotta get going.” 

“Of course. It was good to see you too.” His eyes linger on Bucky for a moment, back to Steve, then settle in the middle where their hands are joined and his brows quirk up in surprise. “Never took you for a PDA guy,” he murmurs to Steve, then to Buck he says, “Steve was the bossiest top I ever dated, and not much for hand holdin’. You must be somethin’ else.”

Bucky’s jaw drops but he manages to say, “Nah. But he is. Have a good afternoon, Rick.”

They make it back to the car and Steve doesn’t let go of Buck’s hand, but he also doesn’t speak, casting the occasional worried glance. With Ellie safely fastened into her car seat, they take off back to Becca’s in silence. There’s no way to discuss anything in front of the little one, even though Bucky’s pretty sure El is asleep. Steve shifts uncomfortably a half a dozen times until Buck can’t bear the tension anymore and reaches over, running a hand through golden hair a few times then dropping to squeeze Steve’s knee. 

The smaller man glances over, surprised and grateful, covers Bucky’s hand with his own, and the words jump from Buck’s mouth. “‘M crazy about you, Stevie.”

Steve huffs, a little exhalation of relief and awe and joy. Bucky glances over just in time to see his smile, daybreak, first breath, perfect and he can’t help but return it, though he’s sure his is goofy as hell. He pulls over so he can stare without endangering anyone, needs a moment to absorb everything. 

It’s a good thing he does.

Steve is staring, eyes locked on Buck, magnetic and adoring and says, “I’m in love with you, Buck,” and Bucky lets out an embarrassing noise, a sob probably, but Steve reels him in anyway, kisses him roughly anyway, repeats himself anyway. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Steve. Goddamn. Loved you for awhile now.” They’ve got each other’s faces in their hands, breathing each other’s air, smiling against each other’s mouths.

“Loved you since that night you came home with me.”

“What? No. You’re full of shit,” Buck laughs pulling away.

“Am not. You thought I was asleep and you were getting ready to go catch your train, and you kissed me good night. You said ‘sweet dreams’ all gentle and sweet into my hair, and I was gone.”

“Oh,” Buck whispers. “Good.”

“Good?”

“Makes me feel less weird for lovin’ you the moment I saw you.”

“Oh,” Steve laughs, delighted. “Good.”

“Guys? Ellie’s sleepy little voice floats from the back, considering the events and conversations of the day. “What’s a top?”

\--

“So.”

“So.”

Buck tosses his jacket over the hotel chair and turns to face Steve. 

“I feel like I should explain some of what Rick said.” He’s literally wringing his hands a little, so Bucky nods but crosses to him, slides him into an embrace. 

“Alright. Kiss me first.” 

“Bossy,” Steve replies, complying immediately. 

They end up knee-to-knee on the bed. 

“I haven’t always...liked the way I look.” Bucky frowns but doesn’t interrupt. “It didn’t serve me well when I was younger. Got beat up a lot, or just generally fucked with...when I got older, dated, I wanted to be in control. I didn’t trust anyone to do...that. Eventually, I got over it, I’d switch depending on the partner, and it’s fine now. But. That’s where Rick’s comment came from.”

“You didn’t trust him.”

“No. But I trust you.”

Awed, Bucky breathes, “Fuck. Why?” 

Steve shrugs. “You listen when I talk.”

“Of course.” 

“You ask my opinion.”

“You’re smarter than me.”

“You look at me like I’m attractive.”

“Understatement of the century.”

Steve chuckles. “Thanks. Anyway. I just wanted you to know that while what he said was technically true, it’s misleading. For us.” 

“Us,” Bucky repeats with a smile. 

Softly, Steve murmurs, “Yeah. I'm happy to bottom, I love holding your hand in public or in private. The bossy thing might be harder to kick …”

“Thank you,” Buck interrupts. 

“For what?”

He shrugs. “For explaining. For bottoming until I was comfortable.”

“...til you were…” He doesn't continue, lets the question hang in the air and Bucky forces himself to man up, aided by the sheer force of his need. 

“Steve. W-would you fuck me?”

“Buck.” Steve scrambles into his lap, knees on either side. “Buck.” Takes his face between delicate, artful hands. Kisses him, lustful but sweet, as if to say ‘I know,’ for so long that Bucky gets lost in the feel of Steve’s slender hips in his hands, the taste of his beautiful man on his tongue, swallowed up by the feeling of Steve grinding down on him, the arousal building in his gut, and then gentle hands are pulling his shirt over his head and pushing him back, down onto the bed. 

Every synapse focuses on the silk slip of Steve’s mouth drifting across Buck’s collarbone, his throat, his jaw, so perfect. Feeling too close to untethered already, he tugs at the hem of Steve’s tee until it comes all the way off and the press of their bodies, skin-to-skin, calms him again. 

He loses time, honest to god over an hour while Steve fucking worships his body, kissing and biting and sucking bruises into soft flesh that makes Bucky arch off the bed. It's not one sided though, by any means. If Steve's marking his neck, he’s biting into the lithe muscle of the smaller man’s shoulder. If Steve's kissing his chest, stomach, hips, Bucky's got his fingers winding and running through straw-colored hair. Occasionally he's struck with the almost unbearable desire to manage, control, to literally and figuratively top, but he pushes it down, releases it with the help of his boyfriend whispering sweet praise into his skin. 

When Steve finally slips that smart mouth over Bucky's cock, he’s so overstimulated that he just seizes up, lips open in a soundless scream and when Steve presses the soft pad of one finger to his asshole, he lets out a sob. 

“Shhh, I got you. Buck, breathe baby-”

“Steve, I can't, I gotta -”

“Come for me.”

He sits up a little. “What?”

“I want you to come,” Steve murmurs against his hip. 

“But what about -”

The classic shit-eating grin returns, though there's a fondness that's just for this occasion. “Oh, I'll get you back there.” Softer, he adds, “It'll help you relax.” He strokes Buck rhythmically, slick with spit and precum. “Come on baby. Let me hear you. Come on -”

With a sigh, Bucky obeys, and Steve swallows him down, letting him come hot and hard down his throat. 

“Good,” Steve pants breathlessly as he pulls off. “Beautiful, Buck.”

Blinking dazedly, Bucky smiles up at him. He feels incredible, relaxed just like Steve said, boneless enough that when the smaller man shoves his hip he just goes, rolling easily onto his stomach. He lies there, cheek cushioned in the soft hotel pillow, waiting, but somehow still surprised when warm lips press feather-light to the nape of his neck. 

“Mm,” he sighs. 

“Love you,” Steve whispers. 

“God, Stevie. I love you too.”

Warm hands sweep across his back, digging into the knots in his muscles from work and he groans, so lost in thought that he misses the first few times Steve says his name.

“Buck. Kneel up for me.”

If Steve hadn’t placed a sharp bite to his asscheek, Buck might never have managed to shift to his knees, but it’s just enough to pull him out of his head and back into his body where Steve guides it.

“How ya doin’?” he hears from far away.

Bucky just nods. What words could he possibly use?

“Look at me, Buck.” He obeys, over his shoulder and into poignantly sincere blue eyes. “If you don’t like something, if you want to stop, if you just need a break, I need you to tell me, ok?” He pauses, looking strangely shy. “I want this to be perfect.”

“It will be,” Bucky whispers. “With you.”

Steve’s face softens, brightens beautifully, but he insists. “You’ll tell me, though. If,” and Bucky manages some sort of guttural noise, a confirmation, and then suddenly, wet heat is circling his hole.

The afterglow of the last orgasm has Bucky floating along nicely. He’s not so far in his head that he can’t feel the masterful way Steve is working him open with his tongue, but it’s not overwhelming either, cushioned by endorphins that seem to flood the room with gold. He’s talking, but not sure what he’s saying, gibberish probably, or profanity, but when Steve slips one slender finger inside him, he almost loses his cool. It’s been years since he’s allowed even this and it feels almost too intimate, but then Steve makes a sound against his skin, whimpering, and then the sound of a slick hand over taut flesh and Bucky realizes he’s not alone in this. Steve’s falling apart too. 

It’s comforting enough that Steve get’s three fingers deep and Bucky’s so close he almost can’t bear it, clenching the sheets and his eyelids shut against the onslaught of good, great, overwhelming, more, too much, not enough, and then Steve slides home and all of that escapes in a howl. 

“Buck,” Steve gasps. “Talk to me.”

“Just...gimme a sec, ok?” Though he hardly ever does in real life, he kind of wants to cry, not in a bad way, but certainly scared. Steve stills immediately though, and there’s just breath in the room, the two of them panting. So much at stake, so many vulnerable parts of him laid bare. So many years, so many nights sleeping alone on his couch, smiling halfway, lying calmly and kindly, and never, ever eating anything that reminded him of his ma’s cooking, but this skinny little shit above him was perfect trouble, and Buck had known it from the beginning. Knew when he took one look at smart-ass kid in his tight jeans, with those piercing eyes and that gleeful smile, that he’d be lost. And he’d crossed the room anyway. Introduced himself anyway. Gone home with Steve anyway. 

Buck opens his eyes again.

Steve's staring, biting his lip caught so hard between his teeth it might bleed. His eyelashes are just a little damp.

Buck rolls his hips up, fucking himself on Steve’s cock, and they both groan.

And they’re gone. 

Steve crashes their mouths together as he slams into Buck, not gentle or sweet, put purposeful, assuring, claiming. Adoring. Bucky’s close but he can see that Steve is too, red flushing down his slender chest and when he falls down to tuck his arms beneath Bucky’s shoulders and it slides his stomach over Buck’s cock, it’s almost enough. Buck curses under his breath and Steve laughs, clear and joyful, and those eyes flash a challenge and a promise and Bucky’s body begins to tense.

It's so gradual he almost doesn’t realize what’s happening, but when the wave crests he can’t even speak, just jerks up into Steve’s arms and rides it out, Steve sighing praises as he comes down from his own release. 

Maybe there should be some emotional exchange, or shedding of tears, or whatever. Instead, they both fall asleep.

Bucky wakes only once in the night, realizing he has to pee. What woke him up wasn’t his bladder but instead, a crinkling noise. 

“Are you eating gummies at … 3:26 am?”

“Never a bad time for gummies. Want one?”

Grunting, the taller man gets up, takes a piss, and when he traipses back to bed, holds out an expectant hand. Steve obliges, filling his palm with candy, and Buck can see in the dim light that he’s grinning hugely.

Bucky can't help but say, “Love you so fuckin’ much, ya weirdo.”

“I love you, too, asshole.”

When they’re done with their gummies, Steve wraps his limbs around Bucky like a skinny octopus. Bucky dreams of pumpkin pie and textbooks.

\--

Becca hugs them both, Bucky first, and when she gets to Steve she pulls him to the side, whispering something in his ear. Steve’s answer makes her laugh triumphantly, and despite being painfully curious, Buck knows he’d get nothing from either of them, so he keeps quiet. Ellie very somberly informs Steve that he’s required to attend her birthday party next year, and his “Of course!” has Bucky grinning all the way back to the city.

They get a quarter of a mile from Steve’s place when he blurts, “Move in with me.”

Bucky doesn’t really stop grinning.

\--

“Buck!”

“Kitchen!” he calls back.

“I found this amazing old samurai video! It’s ridiculous! Can we watch -” Steve's voice gets clearer as he enters the kitchen, then softer as he guesses what’s going on. “Holy fuck. It smells amazing. What’s going on?”

Buck turns the chicken in the pan, then speaks to it, afraid if he looks at Steve he’ll fuck it up. “My ma used to make this for us. it’s super fuckin’ simple, not a big deal, but you’ve been cooking a lot lately and I thought…” He’s not sure where to go from there, but Steve always makes it easy.

“What smells like cookies?”

Buck laughs. “Cookies.”

“Fucker.”

“You can’t have any until after dinner.”

“You gonna cuff me?”

“You want me to?”

There’s a stinging pinch to his ass, and he spins around, chasing Steve out of the kitchen and down the hall. They wrestle in the carpet only briefly before Bucky kisses him soundly and drags him back to help finish up the meal. Steve clears the table of Bucky’s classwork and rough drafts of his own design portfolio, and sets it with dark blue plates and red napkins, which Bucky always bitches about (“Why can’t we just get ones we can _throw away_?”) but secretly loves, and opens a few beers. 

They unceremoniously fill their plates at the stove, full of chicken and broccoli and pasta drenched in pesto and sit hip to hip on the same side of the table.

“This is incredible,” Steve groans through a mouthful.

“Thanks.”

“I want to eat this forever.”

“You’d get sick of it.”

“Nope. I want to bathe in it.”

“Gross.”

“You wouldn’t lick it off?”

“Pesto doesn’t seem like the sexiest food...Or did you mean the broccoli?”

“Chicken, Barnes. I want you to eat that chicken right off of me.” His voice is so dry they both have to crack up and it’s light, air, so easy and good, and when Steve looks up later from dunking a cookie in milk and says - “Buck.” “Hm?” “I know...what this was. Tonight. And I’m so _fucking_ honored.” “It’s nothing.” “It’s everything. It’s her. It’s us. It’s amazing. I love you.” - it doesn’t even make Bucky ache. Or it does, but in a nice way. In the way that feels a little bit like laughter. It a way that makes his ma feel nearer instead farther away. In a way that makes him kiss the chocolate from Steve’s lips, and instead of dragging him to the bedroom to fuck him through the mattress, drags him to the living room where they put on Steve’s samurai movie. They've got time.

The smaller man wedges himself into Bucky’s side, throws a blanket over them, then unwraps a napkin to reveal a pile of cookies. Buck steals one. Steve just smiles. Not that Steve ever does _just_ anything. No more than the sun is _just_ a star, or Da Vinci was _just_ a painter, or Bucky is _just_ happy.

**Author's Note:**

> Visit me at seasless.tumblr.com! <3


End file.
